


your ex-lover is dead

by hanalea



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, leorio's not like a main character in this but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanalea/pseuds/hanalea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, I think we’ve met before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your ex-lover is dead

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song by Stars. Too many of my fics are inspired by songs.

When blue meets brown, Killua remembers. He remembers days with the sun beating down on his back and a laugh on his lips; he remembers nights pressed against a wall with fingers tangled in his hair. He remembers every moment, and wonders how he ever forgot. 

_Because it means nothing to you._

“Hi,” the man says, a meek smile on his face and his fingers clutching the edge of his shirt nervously. _Not like him to be anxious_ , Killua thinks. What else has changed about him?

Killua lets out a strained noise in response, nodding. He wants to say something, but realizes that he doesn’t remember the man’s name. He remembers the feel of the man’s breath against his neck, the way his eyes shone just a little bit brighter when he made Killua blush, but no name.

Leorio clears his throat loudly. Killua can’t help shooting a glare at his friend—first, Leorio sets him up on what is just a thinly-veiled blind date; then, he never took the time to give Killua this guy’s name so Killua could say, “Nope, sorry. Dated him before, didn’t go too well.” Plus, then Killua wouldn’t have to comb his mind trying to remember this guy’s name.

Killua puts his hands in his pockets, checking to make sure he still has that scrap of paper with the man’s phone number on it. Maybe that has a name on it, too.

“Do you two know each other already?” Leorio asks, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

That sad smile is on the man’s face again. “Yes, I think we’ve met before.”

Killua feels something soft hit his cheek and caress the side of his face—he looks up at the sky, which has been in turmoil all morning. The moment he does, the clouds crack open like an eggshell and rain pours down. He is soaked in an instant.

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

“Do you ever hear the stars?”

“ _Hear_ the stars?” Killua asks, turning his head to look into those eyes that are like pools of amber.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at Killua; instead, he keeps his gaze on his fingers, which intertwine with Killua’s, then move to press lightly against different parts of Killua’s hand.

They lay side-by-side on the hood of Killua’s car—his parents’ attempt to curry favor with him last year when he turned sixteen. Killua likes the car well enough, but still adamantly refuses his parents’ requests to start studying to get into a business school. Killua will do what he wants with his life, he decided, even if it doesn’t necessarily please his parents.

“What are you talking about, idiot? You can’t hear stars,” Killua says, trying not to focus too much on the feel of the other boy’s fingertips against his own.

“Really?” The boy is silent, but continues playing with Killua’s hands. “Hmm.”

“What? Do _you_ hear the stars?”

“I don’t really know. I think so…” His voice trails off like he suddenly stumbled into a universe that even Killua can’t imagine.

Killua considers his words for a moment. Then, “It sounds like you need serious help.”

The boy stops short, his fingers weaving into Killua’s again. “That’s mean, Killua!” He turns to Killua with a pout adorning his mouth. “I really do hear them…probably.”

Killua smirks, pressing his fingers tighter into the boy’s. “Okay, what do the stars sound like then?”

The boy looks away and up into the sky. Moonlight bathes his face in pale tones of light, and Killua feels his heart stutter. “Hmm,” he begins. “They sound like…when you’re lying in bed, and you’re just about to fall asleep. And your eyes are closed, so you don’t really know what’s going on around you. Half of you is dreaming, and it’s like you’re stuck in between two different worlds. They sound like that.”

Killua is silent, listening to the sound of his own breathing mixing with the boy’s breathing and forming something completely new. He feels something inside of him swelling up to the point that he feels like he could burst, but he’s not quite sure what it is. He’s not quite sure of anything really.

“That’s not a sound, idiot,” Killua finally murmurs.

“Oh, you’re right,” the boy says, his face slackening in shock.

“But I think I get what you mean,” Killua admits, carefully ignoring the boy’s eyes on him. “I think I hear the stars sometimes, too.”

“See?” He lets out a bright chuckle. “I told you so."

“It still doesn’t make sense, though,” Killua grumbles.

The boy ignores him. “When do you hear the stars?”

“When?” He shrugs, and their hands fall down together to rest in between them. “I don’t really know.” It is a lie, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to say the truth just yet.

The boy hums thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed that I only really hear them when I’m with you. I don’t hear them when I’m by myself, or with other people.”

Killua’s eyes find the boy’s immediately—of course he blurts out the exact words that Killua had decided against saying. Now that it’s out there though, Killua doesn’t feel quite as hesitant about it.

“Me too,” he whispers. “I think.”

The boy giggles, his eyes gleaming in that way that makes Killua’s skin heat up. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it? We only hear the stars when we’re around each other.”

“Shut up, idiot! That’s embarrassing.”

Killua looks away as the boy turns to wrap his arm around Killua’s waist and press his lips against Killua’s cheek, light as air. _It would be nice if we could stay like this forever_ , Killua finds himself thinking.

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

Killua makes sure to sit as far away from the man as he can, leaning against one side of the taxi like he’d rather push the door open and fall out. He doesn’t blame the other man when he does the same—clutching to his side of the seat like the space between them is going to disappear and leave them shoulder-to-shoulder.

Leorio had left as soon as it started to rain, wanting to give the two of them “time to catch up.” He had offered a sly wink to Killua as he ran to his car, which only served to give Killua even more motivation to strangle him the next time they saw each other.

“Where to, guys?” the taxi driver asks.

“We can go to your place first. Mine is pretty far,” Killua offers, acknowledging the silent agreement between them that they would not actually “catch up” like Leorio had suggested.

“Okay. That’s fine.” He gives the driver his address and then it is silent, apart from the quiet hum of the engine and the incessant pitter-patter of the rain on the metal roof.

Memories flash through Killua’s mind, unbidden and unwanted. He feels the air between him and the man beside him grow thick with the sweet nothings and light chuckles from a life long past. Then, he remembers the end—the last words he heard from that once-childish voice.

_Because it means nothing to you._

It’s been years since Killua last saw this man, just a boy back then. Each happy memory wields those sharp words at the end, and Killua wonders when he stopped feeling bitter about it.

_Because it means nothing to you._

Killua knew part of it had been his fault; he didn’t fight hard enough for himself, or for their relationship. He barely conveyed a fraction of his true feelings, and let himself be ruined with those words.

_Because it means nothing to you._

He doesn’t blame himself, or the other man, for what happened. As he got older, he realized it was something that had been coming for a long time. They were both trying to take on too much at too young an age, and the fallout was inevitable. At the time, though, those words had sliced him open—had forced him to grow an even thicker skin than before.

Because it had meant everything to him.

-

 

-

 

-

 

Sooner than Killua was expecting, they arrive at the man’s apartment. The taxi slows to a stop and the sound of the rain pounding on the car seems to grow louder. The man pays the driver, muttering a “thanks” before opening the door on his side.

He lingers a moment, and Killua looks at him curiously. His eyes are trained on the floor of the taxi and his eyebrows are wrinkled together, meeting in the center of his face. He inhales quietly.

“I’m not sorry,” he finally says, his voice barely a whisper over the sound of the rain outside.

Killua’s eyes are still on him when he looks up—he looks like the boy from Killua’s youth again, his shoulders sturdy and his gaze sure. “I’m not sorry I met you. And, I’m not sorry it’s over.”

He gets out and closes the taxi door, leaving Killua staring at the spot he used to occupy. Killua’s thoughts are hazy all of a sudden, and nothing quite makes sense. Only one word—one syllable—is able to rise above the chaos in his mind. Killua gets out of the taxi, ignoring the griping driver.

“Gon!” Killua yells, his voice muffled by the rain and his eyes wild.

Gon jumps in surprise before turning to look at Killua, who is approaching him where he stands outside his apartment building.

“I’m not sorry, either,” Killua begins once he gets close enough. The overhang above the apartment door does little to shield him from the rain, but for once, he is sure—he has no doubt. “I don’t regret any of it.”

They share a searching stare for a moment before Killua turns around to make his way back to the taxi. He hears the door to Gon’s apartment open and close while he gets into the car.

He doesn’t look back, and he’s sure Gon doesn’t, either.


End file.
